


Like Silk and Honey

by Girukun



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, deaf iwaizumi, iwaizumi deserves the world, nothing but sap, oikawa wants to give it to him, surprisingly fast build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-10 21:38:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5602003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Girukun/pseuds/Girukun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To Iwaizumi, sound's nothing.</p>
<p>It's not something he wants to experience or wishes he had the privilege of knowing. Sound's nice, he's sure, but he's doing just fine without it. It's made him observant, careful with his surroundings. He sees his lack of hearing as a blessing rather than a curse, free of anyone's harsh words or snide conversations around him that everyone else might be subjected to.</p>
<p>Sound's nothing to him, and that's his normalcy. Oikawa effortlessly adapts to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Soundless

To Iwaizumi, sound's nothing.

It's not something he wants to experience or wishes he had the privilege of knowing. Sound's nice, he's sure, but he's doing just fine without it. It's made him observant, careful with his surroundings. He sees his lack of hearing as a blessing rather than a curse, free of anyone's harsh words or snide conversations around him that everyone else might be subjected to.

Sound is a concept that looks good on paper, he thinks, picking up his fourth novel of the day and skimming through the pages with keen eyes. He's found comfort in bookstores; nobody talks to anybody, nobody bothers him, nobody looks in his direction. He doesn't buy a lot of books, but he does like spending his day at the shop and reading before he's able to walk home again. 

Sound is one of his favourite things to read about, but not because he wants to experience it. It's a foreign concept, rather—he likes it the same way someone who isn't an astronaut likes space. It's something he can't fathom, and that makes him want to learn about it. 

Stopping on one specific page, he glances over a brief passage: _The wind whistles and carries the chirps and cries of birds through the springtime air._

What do birds sound like? Better yet, what does the wind sound like?

Iwaizumi snaps the book shut and places it back on the shelf, glancing over his shoulder before returning back to his own nest of sorts. There's small tables spread apart, and he's always picked the most hidden one for every day he's come here. It's tucked back between two shelves—the genres are astrophysics, old literature, science fiction and historical fiction. He likes historical fiction, but science fiction's a bit too much. Dorky, even.

He sits down, three books already set to the side to look through today, and glances up when he notices the store owners come forward towards the front of the shop from the corner of his eye. They're always polite, greeting everyone that comes in every morning and ensuring they know which genres are where. 

Looking a little closer, he takes notice of who they're greeting; the guy's stunning, all beautiful smiles and mussed hair, and Iwaizumi looks away immediately the instant they make a split second of eye contact. 

He's not used to being noticed, looked at for even a moment. Blending in is comfortable.

When Iwaizumi looks up again, the guy's peering around for what he can only assume is his genre of choice. He's tall, pretty eyes, cute gestures. His hands look lean and soft, but Iwaizumi can't necessarily tell from this much of a distance. 

He doesn't have to, apparently, as the mystery guy perks up upon noticing something in his general direction and begins to bounce his way over.

Again, Iwaizumi ducks his head down, turning the most heavy attention he possibly can on one of his books; he doesn't want to be tapped on the shoulder, spoken to, put under a spotlight. He's not good at reading lips. Never has been, as much as he's tried from a young age. He's lost count of how many people attempt to speak to him and assume he's rudely ignoring them before he has the chance to try and elaborate why he's not listening.

Heart hammering a little in his chest, he looks back up when he sees a shadow briefly cast over the table. It vibrates a little as the pretty guy takes a seat across from him, holding a book about astrophysics that's thicker than his own hands put together.

He looks distracted by that, and Iwaizumi tries to relax as he glances back down at his own book.

Not even thirty seconds passes before he catches a hand waving softly at him from his peripherals.

Frozen on the spot, Iwaizumi looks up again, shoulders tense while the pretty guy speaks. He doesn't know what he's saying. The man looks a little concerned, worry evident in his eyes, and Iwaizumi fumbles for pen and paper before he can get agitated and draw more attention over here. He knows he keeps it somewhere—he scrawls quickly across his token notepad, pushes it in the pretty guy's direction to try and make him stop moving his mouth.

_I'm deaf. Can't hear._

He watches the man's furrowed eyebrows soften as surprise blossoms over his expression, gaze trained down on the notepad, and when he looks up again, he almost appears relieved. Iwaizumi's palms sweat while he's given a wide smile, and he passes the pen over when the pretty guy gestures for it. 

Nobody's tried to speak to him like this in a while.

After a few moments of writing, the man pushes the notepad back, ever-present smile still bright and wide on his face.

_My name is Oikawa. I saw you looking at me when I came in, so I thought I'd talk to you. What's your name?_

Iwaizumi's a little dumbfounded, in all honesty, and he knows it's probably showing on his expression. The man—Oikawa—says nothing about his lack of hearing, nothing about how hard it must be. He's used to that, having someone find out he's deaf and then choosing to write or sign on and on about how dreadful it must be for him. He doesn't understand why, but Oikawa hasn't done that and they've been acquainted for two minutes. That's already better than most.

Slowly taking the notepad and pen back, he bites his bottom lip and writes more carefully than before.

_I'm Iwaizumi. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable by staring when you came in._

He pushes it towards Oikawa, watches the man read it, watches his shoulders shake a little and smile grow wider. He's laughing, that's obvious, but Iwaizumi can only hope it's a positive one.

Oikawa's fast to write his own response, and Iwaizumi feels his ears burn a warm red as he reads it.

_Don't be sorry. I only wanted to know why such a handsome guy was looking in my direction and not anyone else's._

Iwaizumi doesn't even know how to reply. Is this flirting? He's seen it in a physical sense, watched it on television shows that're subtitled, read it in books. It's never once happened to him. If it has, he's never been aware of it.

Able to feel the heat on his face worsening, he searches desperately for a reply in his mind, but Oikawa's taking the notepad back with the same grin from before. In a sense, he's thankful he hadn't been expected to reply to that. He's not sure how he would have.

Oikawa shows him the notepad, then, a look of soft curiosity on his face.

_Do you have a number I'd be allowed to have? I'd hate to not get to see you again._

Iwaizumi doesn't know what's come over him, but he barely even hesitates to give Oikawa his number. Maybe he's silly for doing so, but he wants to see him again, too. It's the first time he's wanted to be noticed in a good while.

Oikawa smiles as he takes note of his number, and Iwaizumi feels tightness in his chest.

\--

He gets a text that night, a small one from Oikawa asking if he'll be at the same bookstore tomorrow. Iwaizumi answers honestly and finds himself too excited to sleep properly.

\--

Iwaizumi goes to his same table at the same bookstore the next day. He's stunned to find Oikawa there already, nose buried in the same astrophysics book he'd picked up yesterday. Oikawa must hear him coming—he turns and gives a light smile and wave, and Iwaizumi feels a similar embarrassment from the day before as he steps around the table to take his seat.

He can't help but notice Oikawa's got more than a book. Papers surround him, complex problems laid out from top to bottom, and he wonders if Oikawa's a college student. He looks about that age, ready to start his life fresh and anew. It's almost motivational.

Iwaizumi decides to ask, pulls out his notepad and pen again, but Oikawa looks up and holds a hand out to stop him for a moment. He freezes right in place, notepad removed halfway from his bag. The man sticks his tongue out a little in concentration before raising his hands, awkwardly trying to make gestures with them.

Signing. He's signing.

_How are you?_

He's shocked down to the core, truly, and if that's not enough, Oikawa isn't done. He holds his hand up for Iwaizumi to stay still again, pausing in thought. He's probably trying to recall what signs he's learned, and Iwaizumi feels like he's about to pass out from sheer appreciation of what's going on.

Oikawa figures out his signs, beams at Iwaizumi as he moves his hands. 

_I'm happy to see you today._

Iwaizumi desperately wants to sign back; it's like his first language, yet he rarely gets to use it. Oikawa's likely only learned those two phrases, though, so he finishes pulling his notepad out and tries to ignore the fact that he can feel himself grinning as he scribbles a praise on it and slides it over to his companion.

_That's impressive for overnight studying. If you keep learning it, you'll get better and better at making bigger statements._

Oikawa looks thrilled, absolutely ecstatic, and he opens his mouth to begin to speak—stops himself a moment later, grasps for the pad instead. 

That alone makes Iwaizumi's heart thud _hard_ in his chest. He won't even speak out loud while Iwaizumi's around, won't let him miss a single word. It's probably a force of habit for Oikawa, being verbal while excited.

What's Oikawa's voice sound like?

That thought gets removed for the time being as he sees what Oikawa's written down, feeling his own smile return larger than before while he gives a silent laugh of his own.

_I want to learn. If I do, that means we can talk without getting hand cramps._

He looks up and meets eyes with Oikawa; it strikes something in him, seeing him smile like that, catching the beauty in his eyes. He doesn't desire to hear, but he's willing to bet Oikawa sounds the way that golden sunrises and dewdrops look. 

It makes him curious. He has no idea how anyone would be able to describe sound, but he's left writing on the notepad again, willing to give it a shot as he slides it over to Oikawa.

_What do you sound like?_

From the looks of it, Oikawa genuinely considers trying to figure out how to answer a question like that. Iwaizumi doesn't expect him to. He doubts that anyone who can hear can relay sound to him in a way that he's able to fully understand, and he doesn't mind one bit.

Instead, Oikawa sends the notepad back over with a new reply written down on it.

_What do you think I sound like?_

Now, he looks interested, like he wants to know Iwaizumi's perspective on how he might understand the concept of sound. Iwaizumi only has to think for a moment about what he wants to say, but it takes him far longer to write it all down. He even covers his notepad with his free hand like a child, trying to be sneaky and keep his response from Oikawa until he's done. The table vibrates just a little and he looks up to see Oikawa giggling again.

A minute later and he's done, pushes the notepad back over.

_You probably sound like what silk feels like. It's soft and feels slow under the touch of a hand. Maybe what honey tastes like, too. It's just as slow, but it's sweet and goes down easy. I bet lots of other people love the way you sound._

Iwaizumi watches Oikawa read it, and everything that ensues afterwards is utterly heartwarming. It takes all of five seconds for Oikawa to turn a horrible shade of red, looking back up at Iwaizumi with big doe eyes that're wide from shock and a little glassy. Iwaizumi smiles for him, shy, and Oikawa smiles back in a way that's more wobbly and touched. 

He writes out his own reply, and Iwaizumi doesn't miss the way his fingertips tremble as he does it and hands the notepad back over.

_Did you pick that right out of a novel? You ought to be an author, describing things like that._

Iwaizumi feels humbled, warm to his very core, and he bows his head as a silent sort of thanks for a compliment that nice. He's only being honest, putting his thoughts out there. It's one of the first chances he's ever had to write his thoughts down and show them to someone else. Talking to Oikawa makes him feel light, anyways. He loves it.

He wonders what a great guy like Oikawa's doing talking to a plain guy like him, but he's not about to complain. Enjoying the sparks between them, he plucks the pen up again and positions the notepad beneath it. He wants to know more about Oikawa.

_All that work you have—is it for college? Astrophysics is really hard. I'm impressed._

Oikawa reads his question, nods and smiles wide and proud, gestures for the pen again. Iwaizumi feels even warmer at the notion of being paid attention to by someone so intelligent. Oikawa's something else, that's for sure, beautiful, smart and kind from the inside out. He watches him a little closer, even takes note of how meticulous his writing is. Is Oikawa a perfectionist? He itches to ask.

Once more, Oikawa pushes the notepad over. _It takes a lot of work, but I love it. Physics and astronomy go together really well. I'm not a genius of any sort, so I have to stick to a subject I enjoy working hard for. What about you? Those books you had yesterday would suggest you're a history nerd._

Iwaizumi takes the pad back, reads it, feels himself flush a little at the accusation of being a history nerd. He sends Oikawa a deadpan expression and earns a stuck-out tongue and peace sign in response. 

_I'm not a history nerd, per say, but I like historical fiction. You're one to talk, being smitten over astrophysics. I'll bet you like science fiction._

Sending the notepad in Oikawa's direction, Iwaizumi tries to look a little smug, grinning once he sees Oikawa raise his head from reading it with a pout. It's cute to think about—Oikawa doesn't look anything like someone who might be a fan of science fiction, dorky sci-fi, but judging by the look on his face, that's exactly what he is. He watches Oikawa write his own reply a tad faster in lieu of being slightly flustered.

_I own six plush alien pillows and my walls are covered in sci-fi posters. I hadn't planned on ever telling you that, but now you know my shame._

Seeing Oikawa's response, Iwaizumi ends up _laughing_ once he gets the pad back—really laughing, even if he isn't able to hear himself all that well. He forgets all about his own qualms against making any kind of sounds he can't hear in public in favour of picturing Oikawa going to sleep in the alien pillow paradise that's probably his bed. It's as hilarious as it is endearing, and he has to drag a hand down his face to reduce his laughter to a mere grin. 

Oikawa's burning as red as a cherry, hiding his own face behind his hands and slumping helplessly against the table. Iwaizumi almost starts to write a reply, but Oikawa reaches out with swift fingers and steals his pad and pen briefly, scribbling on it with the pout of a six year old before showing it to him.

_Meanie Iwa-chan! You're mean, so mean, laughing at me over something like that!_

With that, Oikawa goes back to hiding in his own hands and staying slumped over the table, and Iwaizumi's left to think about how adorable the frowny face that Oikawa drew next to his words is. Yeah, he's mean, still showing a toothy smile at Oikawa's alien fetishism, but Oikawa had been the one to volunteer that information.

With his companion still slumped against the table, Iwaizumi sets the notepad to the side and hesitates before gently grasping one of Oikawa's hands. The man raises his head, somewhat surprised by the touch, and Iwaizumi licks his lips as he thinks about what he's going to do next. If Oikawa's able to learn to sign two phrases properly overnight for his sake, he's willing to try and return the favour. Speaking's hard. It feels awkward when he's unable to hear himself, unsure of how he's supposed to sound in relation to how other people sound. Still, for Oikawa, he wants to put the effort forth.

_I'm sorry._ He tries to say it, feels his throat vibrate while he attempts to mouth those specific words the way he's seen other people do it. It's a little scary, not being able to hear himself, but Oikawa understands. His face lights up bright as all hell, and he squeezes Iwaizumi's hand with a proud sort of smile that makes Iwaizumi feel like he's capable of anything. 

Oikawa's releasing his hand so he can snatch the notepad, then, furiously scribbling down all the praises and joyful statements in the world as he shows it to him again: _You're so perfect, Iwa-chan, you sound perfect, I'll learn as many signs as I can for you, I promise! Who knew you were such a kind and perfect guy, huh? Huh? Who let you become this perfect? You're the embodiment of perfection!!!_

Iwaizumi can't even hold back his shy grin, hiding his face in one hand before peeking an eye out once he feels Oikawa bouncing excitedly in his seat, making the table shake the slightest bit. Oikawa's not pitying him, nor does he expect him to try and work harder to speak out loud. Like this, he feels more normal than ever. Oikawa makes his normalcy feel acceptable, alright, the furthest thing from an inconvenience. He feels lucky.

After a few moments of letting his face cool down, Iwaizumi gnaws his lip again while he takes the notepad back and carefully writes out his next message.

_Will you go on a date with me this weekend?_

He keeps his eyes down as he shoves the pad in Oikawa's direction, unwilling to embarrass himself by seeing what expression the man makes—he weakens only seconds later, but he's gifted with the sight of Oikawa nodding fervently once he looks back up. He looks immeasurably happy, looks the same way Iwaizumi feels. 

Oikawa takes the notepad one last time so he can write a more proper response, bites his lip to contain a smile as he does it.

_What time should I pick you up, Iwa-chan?_


	2. Effortless

The weekend comes faster than expected. Iwaizumi hasn't stopped thinking about Oikawa for a second; his smile's present in his mind, kind words kept close to his heart. He's never gone on a date before. He's never even thought about going on one—when something like that's never once been a leading thought in his mind, actually being in the situation feels surreal. 

Now, he's sitting and waiting and wiping clammy palms on his pants all while staring at himself in the mirror, nerve-wracked and tense. A vast part of him wants to impress Oikawa. If there's a second date, he vows to buy him flowers or chocolates beforehand, some sappy shit like that. He would've today, but Oikawa's picking him up and he'd spent all his earlier hours trying to decide how he ought to dress for a restaurant that's probably a little less than casual.

A simple navy blue dress shirt and black slacks. He hopes it's alright.

Iwaizumi nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket—he fumbles to get it, drops it in the process, stares at Oikawa's arrival text with flushed cheeks once he has a grasp on it again. One more swift glance towards the mirror and he decides he looks good enough for tonight; with that, he's taking a deep breath before trotting over to his apartment door, pulling it open with the least hesitation possible.

Oikawa, naturally, looks as if he's come right out of a magazine. He glances up from his phone when he sees Iwaizumi open the door, shows a smile that's bright and toothy enough to damn near blind Iwaizumi where he stands. Wearing a turquoise dress shirt with a dark jacket over it, he looks like the very definition of handsome, and Iwaizumi swallows hard as he steps out of his apartment and closes the door behind himself.

The pattern's akin to the last time they'd interacted. Oikawa sticks his tongue out in that way that means he's concentrating, gestures for Iwaizumi to stay still before slowly moving his hands in a distinct fashion.

_Did you sleep well last night?_

Iwaizumi has to turn his head a little to hide his grin, nodding as a short response. He rethinks it a moment later and decides to respond properly by gesturing right back with his own hands, willing to see if Oikawa understands him.

_Yeah. What about you?_

It takes no longer than a few seconds for Oikawa to beam back at him with recognition—the hard-working intellect that he is, Iwaizumi figures he's probably tried to learn a whole slew of signs for each of his possible responses. It takes Oikawa just a tad longer to reply, but he still doesn't hesitate to do it: _I slept really well._

Iwaizumi can't stop smiling, and it's almost making his cheeks hurt. It requires all of his willpower to have mercy on Oikawa and not try to hold a lengthy conversation with him using sign. It takes time to learn, and he thinks he'd rather have Oikawa show what he's learned off a little more before expecting him to understand as much as he can say. He likes the way Oikawa smiles when he's proud of something, proud of himself.

Trying to convey a small portion of that, he gestures towards his left pocket and the smaller notepad he's got tucked into it. Oikawa looks ecstatic to see it and gently takes his hand before pulling him along towards the car he's parked outside. 

The whole ride there, Iwaizumi feels like he's buzzing. The vibration of a moving car contributes to that, but it's mostly within his own mind, his inability to sit completely still, the fact that he keeps glancing over at Oikawa. He doesn't think he's ever seen another guy as attractive as him. That alone's amazing enough, but knowing that Oikawa likes him to some extent makes his head spin. What's he done to deserve this? 

He feels the car pull to a stop, looks out his own window. The exterior of the restaurant looks nice. It's not too grandeur; it's not casual, either, which means there won't be too many people. Iwaizumi's grateful for that. He doesn't do well in crowds, and walking in with a date like Oikawa—well, he doesn't want anyone else to try and snatch him up.

Iwaizumi gets out of the vehicle at the same time Oikawa does, waits politely for him to round it before taking so much as another step. Once they're side by side, Iwaizumi sees Oikawa offer his hand out, and he turns a little red and shoves down the urge to look away as he extends his own hand to take it.

He takes his time. Oikawa's hand is different from his own. His fingers are longer than Iwaizumi's, more slender, fingertips just barely calloused from all the textbook reading he likely has to do. His skin's a great deal paler, not as dark as Iwaizumi's, and that contrast is something beautiful—he can't take his eyes off it.

Looking up, though, he realises he's been staring at both of their hands for at least thirty seconds. Oikawa's only grinning like he wants to know what Iwaizumi's thinking, but Iwaizumi just turns redder and gently kicks the back of one of his date's feet to tell him to start walking. 

They're inside within moments, and Iwaizumi lets Oikawa communicate with the waiter at the front and handle their seating arrangements as he looks around. The walls are decorated in a fine, lavish red, neat plants and small statues at every corner, dimly lit tables with candles and chandeliers hanging above them beyond where the waiter is. It looks like a restaurant pulled right out of a movie, really, and Iwaizumi doesn't think he's ever felt so smitten. Does going on a date feel like this for everyone? No wonder love's such a popular subject of discussion. 

Iwaizumi turns back when he feels Oikawa gently grasp his hand again to get his attention, following the man as the waiter leads them to a table. It's small and cosy, and the tablecloth covering it matches the tone of the walls. Sitting down, Iwaizumi tries to take in the romantic ambience of everything around him, a little breathless and stunned. His eyes mostly stay on Oikawa so he can watch the man look effortlessly beautiful as he smiles and says something to the waiter that's now standing beside them.

The waiter turns to him, then, asks something, and Iwaizumi has to look back at Oikawa for some kind of translation. Oikawa gestures a glass with one hand, mimics the motion of drinking out of it, and it clicks in Iwaizumi's head a second later. He pulls his usual notepad out, scribbles _water_ and shows it to the waiter—the man nods, smiles, says something else to Oikawa before passing menus over to the both of them and taking his leave. As soon as he does so, Oikawa plucks up the notepad and pen so he can write on it and pass it back over to Iwaizumi with a ridiculously happy-looking smile.

_I'm paying, by the way, so don't hold back on ordering whatever you want. I have a feeling that Iwa-chan hasn't ever been spoiled before._

Iwaizumi glances back up after he reads it, finding that Oikawa looks something akin to an affectionate puppy, staring with big brown eyes that twinkle under the dim lighting of the restaurant. He writes out a reply of his own, turns the notepad around so Oikawa can read it.

_You look way too happy for a guy that's about to have his wallet drained by paying for an expensive place like this._

If he's being honest, Iwaizumi feels a little guilty for going along with letting Oikawa pay for everything. One brief look at the menu tells him that this place isn't cheap, but Oikawa only waves his hand in dismissal as he takes the notepad back to write again, airy smile still in place and brighter than ever.

_I don't get to do things like this very often. Besides, I doubt you do, either. When was the last time someone took you out and made you feel like the center of the universe?_

At that, Iwaizumi drums his fingers against the notepad—he figures it's a genuine question, sure, but the answer's embarrassing. He's never been on a date in his life, never even given anyone much of a second glance before. He has a small circle of friends, but they've got their own lives to deal with outside of his. He shakes his head as a simple response, watching surprise blossom across Oikawa's expression; the man writes something else down on the pad, shows it to him with a looser grin.

_Well, I feel honoured to be the first. Maybe you don't get asked out very much because of all that bedhead._

Iwaizumi's certain he's probably getting a few odd stares after taking the pen back and flinging it at Oikawa for that snark, but he sees Oikawa laughing and scrambling to get the pen off of the floor, and it makes the feeling of his ears and face burning well worth it. He's never been around someone that's made him so curious and frustrated all at once. Half of it stems from the fact that there's no logical reason any guy as stunning as Oikawa would waste their time on him, but since it's happening, he decides to roll with it.

It doesn't take long for the waiter to return with water and paper for taking down orders. Iwaizumi pays no attention to what he orders, picks something that looks vaguely appetising off of the menu and points at it for the waiter. He's not on this date for food. He wants to know more about Oikawa, wants to draw out those winsome smiles and laughs for as long as he can. He hopes the people who get to hear Oikawa's laugh enjoy it—a man that beautiful has to sound good.

Oikawa takes a little longer to order his own meal, and that gives Iwaizumi the time to swipe the pad and scribble down his first question of the night.

_I already know you're a nerd for sci-fi and science, but what other stuff are you into?_

Once Oikawa's done, he looks over Iwaizumi's question and ponders it for a visible moment, writing his own response a little slower than usual. Iwaizumi thinks it might be hesitation.

_I play volleyball—a lot of volleyball, I mean. I practice almost every day. It's been a passion of mine since I was little. I like to think I'm a good enough setter to be able to reach the national team eventually. What about you?_

Iwaizumi feels like falling over and laying on the floor once he reads Oikawa's reply. He's smart, a real intellect, hard-working, gorgeous to look at, friendly, _and_ he's an athlete? Where's the catch? People as perfect as this don't exist in the real world, not unless they're a secret axe murderer. What's he even got to bring to the table in comparison to all of that? This time, he takes the pad back with a little hesitation of his own.

_I'm not on a team or anything, but I do some athletic stuff, I guess. I like to run at the park. Sometimes I'll lift weights. I've seen some volleyball games on television. I could always come to one of yours._

He's not even sure if Oikawa would want to bring him to one of his games, but he still shows the man his reply. Oikawa simpers and writes out a short response to start.

_You write like you're barely proud of yourself, Iwa-chan! Don't you enjoy doing those things?_

Of course he does. Iwaizumi knows he does, too, but in the presence of someone so incredible...

_It's not all that impressive compared to what you do. You're like a prodigy, I mean._

Iwaizumi's response makes Oikawa pout like a child, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't find it cute. It's meant to be scolding, though. Oikawa's writing faster this time, like he's desperate to get that sort of mindset out of Iwaizumi's head.

_That doesn't matter!!! If you like doing something, be as proud of it as you can. We're two different people. There's plenty of things you're good at that I'm not! Name something you like to do right now—I bet I'm not good at it!!!_

Both touched and thoroughly amused, there's only one reply Iwaizumi can really think of.

_Not being annoying, maybe?_

It's payback for the comment about his hair from earlier, and Iwaizumi breaks into laughter when he sees shock cross Oikawa's face after reading it. Everything about Oikawa makes him want to act boyish and tease him as much as he can, figure out what causes certain reactions and expressions and why. Oikawa's back to pouting, too; he looks about ready to sulk, so Iwaizumi takes responsibility for his actions and writes once more.

_If it weren't for how annoying you are, I doubt I'd be here right now. I sorta like it, so... thanks._

Iwaizumi has to pinch Oikawa's wrist to get the man's attention so he'll read it, biting back another grin as he jolts and puts on that sulky-pouty look again. 

That look softens once Oikawa reads what he's written, a smile threatening to make his eyes crinkle. He steals the pen from Iwaizumi one more time, makes sure his written response is surrounded by cutesy hearts and smiley faces as a kind reward for his apology.

_Who knew you could pull such a kind and loving sentiment out from the bottom of your heart, huh?_

\--

They don't talk a lot during dinner, but Iwaizumi feels warmth in the air. It's too much of a hassle to switch between silverware and a pen, so he spends the remainder of his meal stealing glances at Oikawa. He's effortlessly handsome, large eyes and lean hands, little quirks he does out of habit. Is there going to be a second date? A third? Will he and Oikawa be in a real relationship by the end of next week? Iwaizumi isn't always refined in dealing with romance etiquette, but he's pretty sure it'd be too pushy to ask Oikawa any of those things right now.

Their meal goes by fast, and Iwaizumi finds himself back in the car with Oikawa's promise of driving him home. He feels good, warm and full of expensive food and affectionate, tipping his head back against the headrest and shutting his eyes in order to let the reality of where he's at soak in. He'd never figured he'd deal with anything romantic in his life. Most people saw him as a task, a chore, too much work in terms of communication. He'd never struggled much with finding a way to talk to others growing up, be it gesturing or writing on paper, so why they thought like that was beyond him. 

Oikawa doesn't think that way, though, and it's a thrilling first for him.

By the time they're back at his apartment, Iwaizumi doesn't want any of this to end. Oikawa follows him in the walk to his door, and he awkwardly stands there for a good few seconds as he tries to figure out how to say goodbye. What's suitable for this situation? Oikawa's probably gone over and beyond and learned to tell him goodbye in sign, too, but Iwaizumi wants to initiate this. 

He doesn't. Instead, he opens the door and steps aside as a silent invitation for Oikawa to come in.

It's probably bold and too much for a first date, but Iwaizumi doesn't care. Oikawa looks pleasantly surprised—he wants to think Oikawa hadn't wanted this to end, either. The man steps inside after only a moment, shrugging off his jacket and glancing around. Iwaizumi's always done his best to keep things tidy in his apartment, but there's still the occasional tipped book on a shelf, a sock or two left on the ground in his haste getting ready today, a few plates in the sink. He searches Oikawa's expression, hoping his own can convey what he's thinking: _Do you like it?_

Oikawa pulls the notepad they'd used at the restaurant out of his pocket after some time, scribbles a neat little note onto it with a small grin and shows it to Iwaizumi.

_It's pretty neat and cosy in here, Iwa-chan. Are you trying to make me swoon with cleanliness?_

Iwaizumi huffs air out of his nose like a bull, flustered by the thought of it. He takes the pad and pen from Oikawa, eyes scanning over remnants of their last conversation, and puts it to the side for now. He doesn't need to talk all the time, not when he'd rather slump on the sofa beside Oikawa and share a little warmth. 

He sits on the couch while Oikawa's still standing, gnaws his lip as he looks up and shifts back to lay against the armrest. Oikawa looks drowsy. Iwaizumi doesn't want to think about how much sleep Oikawa had probably sacrificed the evening before while trying to learn a few signs for him. 

Iwaizumi's fortunate enough to catch the man's eye as he opens his arms in yet another silent offer; it wouldn't feel right to send Oikawa back out at this hour, make him drive home in the cold, have to handle a car while fatigued. That's part of it, anyways. The rest of him is selfish. He wants to think about how good Oikawa's hair smells and lay as close to him as possible.

It's too much for a first date, yeah, but Oikawa isn't protesting. The man approaches him and grasps for one of the throw blankets Iwaizumi's laid across the adjacent armrest, and Iwaizumi thinks he sees a little sheepishness in Oikawa's eyes as he sits on the edge of the couch, scoots closer, maneuvers himself so he can snuggle up against Iwaizumi after lazily tossing the blanket over their legs. There's a head on his chest soon enough, an arm thrown over his waist. It takes a strong mix of anxiety and bravery for Iwaizumi to thread one of his hands through Oikawa's hair, and he knows his heart's pounding in his chest hard enough for Oikawa to feel it. It's embarrassing. 

One glance down tells him that Oikawa doesn't mind. He's already got his eyes shut, cheek smushed against Iwaizumi's clavicle. Iwaizumi wonders how many hours of sleep this guy gets on a normal basis. Even if it's eight, being that perfect and kind has to be a little taxing. He wants to tell Oikawa to rest more, cut himself some slack, but he'll worry about that in the morning. Like this, he doubts he'll stay awake much longer.

Falling asleep with a guy like this so close—it's the luckiest he's been in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i only ever write at 3 am. i hope y'all enjoyed this

**Author's Note:**

> hello, it's me, yours truly, providing another fic written at 3 in the morning on low phone battery


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